


The Last Snake That Lived in the Creek Bed

by trashcangimmick



Series: Another Scene, More Shattered Glass [1]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Abortion, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, Child Abuse, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, M/M, Mating Cycles/In-Heat, Save The Boye
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-23
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-18 09:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19331830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashcangimmick/pseuds/trashcangimmick
Summary: Jim Hopper might have a bit of a savior complex. But if marrying Billy Hargrove will get the kid away from his abusive father, it’s a sacrifice Jim’s willing to make.





	The Last Snake That Lived in the Creek Bed

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LazyBaker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyBaker/gifts).



> Listen, I know it sounds like a crack fic. It was supposed to be a smutty crack fic. But I lost control of the steering wheel and we got a fucking angsty character study combined with an essay about paternal relationships fjdsalfhsaklfas

“You know, my daughter Jane had a pretty shit father before I adopted her.”

 

It’s a bad idea to say something like that. Bad time to say it. Jim just doesn’t know what else to do. Because Billy’s sitting there in the station, wrapped in a blanket, still shivering. He’s got a shiny black eye and blood crusted under his nose, and he didn’t get picked up at a bar fight.

 

No, Jim pulled his cruiser over because Billy was walking along the side of the road without a jacket in early November.

 

“Of course,” Jim clears his throat, “I’m not Dad of the year or anything. But uh… I do always keep an extra room. In case someone needs it.”

 

Billy just looks at him. Tired. More exhausted than a kid should ever look.

 

It’s awful. Awful any time a parent hurts the child they’re supposed to protect. But somehow even worse, because an Alpha should never hit and Omega. It makes Jim wonder about more despicable things. There’s no guessing what Neil hargrove is capable of behind closed doors.

 

“Thanks _Chief.”_ Billy inflicts the word with such disdain. “I don’t need a knight in shining armor.”

 

He starts to stand up. Jim panics. Rests a hand on Billy’s shoulder, coaxing him back down.

 

“Hey, now, c’mon. No need to go back there tonight. You can sleep in one of the cells—door unlocked obviously. Or I could get you a hotel—or—“

 

“I’ll take a cell.” Billy’s stiff. Nervous.

 

Jim has to kick himself. Of course it’s inappropriate. Offering to get a room for Billy. The implications of an older Alpha saying something like that. Christ.

 

Still. Billy lets Jim walk him back. He curls up on an uncomfortable bed, still under the blanket Jim gave him. Jim doesn’t hover. But he also doesn’t leave the station. He dozes fitfully at his desk until morning. Just in case.

 

***

 

The next time Billy ends up in the back of Jim’s cruiser, he’s drunk off his ass. Belligerent. Once again bruised and bloody.

 

He’s even more belligerent when Jim puts him in his office rather than the drunk tank.

 

“I’m not a charity case.” Billy hiccups. Angry. Offended by the suggestion that he could use a lifeline.

 

“OK.” Jim shrugs. It might be better to treat Billy like a wild animal than a lost puppy. No sudden movements. Wait for him to come to you.

 

“Don’t patronize me.”

 

“I’m not trying to.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“All righty then.”

 

***

 

Its February, and Billy’s car is parked on the side of the road. It doesn’t look like he skidded off or anything. He’s just idling there. It’s almost midnight.

 

Jim walks up and taps on the window with a flashlight. He can see Billy in there. Hands on the wheel. Just staring off into the distance.

 

It’s not a good idea to walk to the passenger side and test the door. But it’s open. So Jim gets in.

 

They sit in silence. Nothing but the soft hum of the car engine. Billy’s cheeks are wet. His eyes are puffy. He’s _distressed._ More so than Jim’s ever seen him. His scent has a metallic tint of fear. He’s obviously terrified.

 

“Wanna talk about it?” Jim lights a cigarette. Cracks the window enough to let the smoke out.

 

“I’m pregnant.” Billy’s voice is flat. Monotone. Distant.

 

Jim’s not gonna ask who the father is. He doesn’t want to know. It’s not his business. But he does know Billy will need somebody to go with him. They’re not gonna let a seventeen-year-old, unbonded Omega take care of this on his own.

 

“I got a sister in Gary I’ve been meaning to visit.” Jim exhales. “Pretty sure there’s a clinic near her place.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Long drives are a little more bearable with some company.”

 

“When you going?” Billy wipes his cheek with the back of his hand. Breathing slightly easier now.

 

“Was thinking Saturday. Probably gonna leave from the Kroger at around nine in the morning. Gotta stop and get some snacks for the road.”

 

“OK.”

 

***

 

Billy’s in the parking lot when Jim pulls up. Jim does go inside to buy some donuts and a pack of cigarettes. Then they get into his car and start driving.

 

He lets Billy control the radio. Because Billy doesn’t want to talk, and that’s fine. It’s enough that Billy will accept this much assistance.

 

When they get to the clinic, Billy seems surprised when Jim parks and follows him inside. Like he’d even dream about just dropping Billy off on his own. The kid’s obviously nervous. Pale as he fills out the paperwork. He pauses for a long time on the last page. The page that requires the signature of _an Alpha or Legal guardian._ Because Billy isn’t even close to twenty-one, and you can tell from looking at him.

 

Jim is careful when he takes the clipboard from Billy’s shaky hands. He signs on the dotted line without a word. Billy nods at him, swallowing hard. Doesn’t say anything until after he’s checked in and they’re just waiting.

 

“It might take a while.” Billy’s voice is quiet. More subdued than the usual brash bravado. “They’re gonna make me look at an ultrasound and everything.”

 

“It’s no problem.” Jim pulls a book out of his coat pocket. “I’ve been wanting a little peace and quiet.”

 

Billy doesn’t know what to do with that. He’s curled in on himself. Arms folded across his chest. Jim wants to hug him. Pull him in close and tell him everything’s gonna be alright. He can’t do that, though. Not without scaring the poor kid even worse.

 

Soon, Billy’s name is called. He disappears into the back room. Jim takes the opportunity to settle up the bill. He’s sure Billy managed to collect the money on his own. He doesn’t want to know how. It’s just better if Billy gets to hang onto it.

 

***

 

Amy has the good sense not to ask why Jim’s brought a flighty kid with a mullet and a pierced ear into her home. She just serves them dinner, and bitches about her job, and begs for Jim to move out of _that podunk town_ like always.

 

She waits until Billy’s in the bathroom to raise a drawn-on eyebrow and say, “He’s real young, Jimbo.”

 

“No need to clamber on the high horse. It’s not like that.”

 

“What's it like, then?”

 

“Just helping him out of a tough spot.”

 

“If you say so. Soon there won’t be room in that cabin of yours for any more strays.”

 

“Yeah, well, that day’s not here yet.”

 

On the drive home, Billy lies in the back seat, holding his stomach. Stricken. All he has to say when they pull up a block away from his residence is, “you didn’t have to pay for it.”

 

“I know.”

 

“I don’t owe you shit. I didn’t ask you to do that.”

 

“I know.”

 

And then, Billy gets out of the car and goes inside, and that’s the end of it.

 

***

 

There’s a sharp knock at the door. Jane’s already gone to bed. Jim was just watching the news rebroadcast, having a beer. People don’t just come out to the cabin this late at night for no reason. So he grabs his pistol off the coffee table before going to answer the door.

 

It’s Billy standing on the porch. Roughed up in the way Jim’s come to expect. It’s never less heartbreaking to see. He opens the door and steps aside to let Billy in. The kid's limping. He sits down on the couch so gingerly, jacket pulled in tight around him.

 

Jim makes coffee and brings the first aid kit.

 

“I’m fine.” Billy says. Not touching the drink, eyeing the bandages and gauze like a basket of snakes.

 

“Sure. Is it OK if I check for any bleeding?”

 

“There’s no bleeding.” Billy snaps.

 

“All right.”

 

Jim leaves the kit out, but resigns himself to sitting on the opposite end of the couch. It’s enough that Billy wandered through the door. That’s a huge step. He shouldn’t push his luck.

 

After he finishes another couple beers, he sets up the guest room. Doesn’t really invite Billy to it. Just leaves the door open with the light on and the bed all made up. He leaves a fresh towel on the dresser. Just in case.

 

“Goodnight,” he offers in passing. Billy’s still on the couch, staring glassy eyed at the TV. He doesn’t respond. That’s OK.

 

In the morning, Billy’s gone. But the bed isn’t made, and the towel is hanging damp on the rack.

 

Progress.

 

***

 

Billy keeps coming around. At first it’s sporadic, once or twice a month. Then every week. Then a few nights a week. He’s not always bruised and battered. Sometimes he just seems exhausted and collapses into bed as soon as he’s through the door.

 

Perhaps it’s most concerning the nights that Billy shows up on the porch pale and shaky. On those nights, the bad nights, there aren’t usually visible wounds. But once Jim lets him in, Billy pulls out a flask and drinks the whole thing in a matter of minutes.

 

Once he’s a drunk, it’s a toss up between anger and catatonia.

 

“Why are you doing this?” Billy snarls. Sitting with his feet up on the couch, boots still on. Knees hugged to his chest. “I’m not gonna fuck you or something.”

 

“Sorry if I ever gave the impression I was after that.” Jim says calm as he can. Sipping his beer.

 

“You’re old and you’re fat. I could take you in a fight.”

 

“That’s nothing I don’t know, champ. Thanks for pointing it out, though.”

 

“So what’s it about then? What do you want?”

 

Jim isn’t sure how much he should say. If it’s really the time to go into old wounds. How unfathomable it is to him that someone could receive the gift of a healthy child and then desecrate it.

 

“I just don’t like to see people suffer. Not if I’m in a position to help.”

 

“That sounds like bullshit.”

 

“It’s the truth,” Jim shrugs. “Same reason I took Jane in.”

 

Billy thinks about that for a minute or two. Before he comes back with, “She’s a little kid though. I’m not.”

 

“I know it’s hard to believe. But you’re only a few years older than her.”

 

“Fuck off.”

 

Billy gets up. Saunters over to the fridge. He takes a beer without asking and downs half of it. He lights a cigarette. Jim tries not to smoke inside, but he doesn’t say anything. Even when Billy ashes it right on the floor, he doesn’t say anything.

 

“How do I know you’re not like—taking pictures of me while I sleep? What if I wake up cuffed to the bed or something, huh?”

 

“I mean, I’m not doing that.” Jim raises his eyebrows.

 

“So what the fuck do you want?” Billy’s voice pitches higher. Loud enough that it’s probably woken Jane up.

 

“Would you mind using your inside voice? Jane’s got school tomorrow. Come to think of it—so do you.”

 

“I’m not going,” Billy snaps. “And you didn’t answer me.”

 

“I did before. I just want to help you.”

 

“That’s not—that’s not a reason. It’s bullshit.”

 

Arguing doesn’t seem productive. So Jim doesn’t. He just waits as Billy approaches. Looms over him. Chugs the rest of his beer and tosses the bottle aside. Lucky it lands on the couch instead of shattering on the floor.

 

Jim’s seen people act out before. He knows what it looks like when someone’s desperately fishing for a reaction. Pushing limits to see where they’ll break.

 

He knows that Billy wants him to snap. Wants to prove that it’s all a lie. It’s easier for Billy to keep living in a world where nobody has his best interests at heart, because that means his father is just your average asshole instead of a complete monster.

 

“You’re not married. You live in the middle of the woods and let random kids stay at your house. You know how that looks, right?”

 

“Looks like my door’s open to people who need a place to stay?”

 

“Whatever. I bet your dick’s soft. I bet you can’t even get it up.” Billy drops his cigarette butt on the floor and grinds it into the wood with his boot heel.

 

“Well, you can think whatever you want about that.”

 

Then suddenly, Billy’s in his lap, kissing him. It’s wet, and sloppy, and aggressive. Jim pushes him back as gently as he can.

 

“Come on. That’s what you want right?” Billy looks almost panicked.

 

“No. It’s not.”

 

“I’m fucking hot. I’m way too good for you. Why don’t you want this?”

 

“For one thing, you’re a teenager. But also, you’re drunk, and upset, and the last thing I want is to hurt you.”

 

Billy gets up. He storms off to the guest room and slams the door. After a minute or two, Jane pokes her head out. Quizzical look on her face.

 

“Go back to sleep, please.” Jim sighs.

 

The door closes and Jim’s alone.

 

***

 

The door to the guest room is still closed the next morning. Jim makes pancakes and stets out a plate, plastic wrapped on the table, before he leaves for work. The plate is empty when he gets back.

 

That night over dinner, Jane is staring at him in that unflinching, kind of disturbing way she does.

 

“Yes?” Jim stabs his fork into a brussels sprout. Just because Jane’s eating boxed mac n’ cheese doesn’t mean there can’t be vegetables on the table.

 

“Billy’s papa is bad.”

 

“Yeah. He is.”

 

“Billy is also bad. He hurt Steve.”

 

“Well, that’s a little more complicated. Billy isn’t very nice. He’s angry. But I think it’s not too late for him to change.”

 

“What if he doesn’t?”

 

“Even if he stays mean, nobody should live somewhere they get hurt all the time.”

 

Jane nods. She, of all people, must understand that. She’s quiet for a moment.

 

“Is Billy going to live with us?”

 

“Maybe. Would you be OK with that?”

 

“If he yells less. And he has to be nice to Mike, and Dustin, and Lucas.”

 

“I think we can get him to work on that.”

 

***

 

“You know, you can’t do anything about it.” Billy says out of nowhere. They’re sitting on the porch, smoking cigarettes. It’s pitch dark out. Nothing but the light from the kitchen window leaking out to illuminate the scene. Billy’s got a split lip that Jim’s not asking about.

 

“And why’s that?”

 

“It’s not illegal to discipline your Omega.”

 

It’s hard not to read into the sentence structure. Disciplining his Omega. Not his kid.

 

Jim sighs. Rubbing his beard. It may be his job to enforce laws, but there’s a lot of shit he doesn’t agree with. He marched for Omega rights in the 70’s. Sure, it was the popular thing to do. But it wasn’t like he didn’t believe in it.

 

Still. Sometimes dumb laws can be manipulated.

 

“You know, there’s other ways to get you out of there.”

 

“Like what?” Billy snorts. “Running away? It’s not so great on the streets for someone like me.”

 

“No reason you can’t keep sleeping in my guest room.”

 

“He’d find me.” Billy takes a long drag off his cigarette. “People are always real helpful when a guy’s trying to track down his missing family member. I wouldn’t be able to go anywhere. Besides. Second I go into heat, it’d be over. The bastard has a nose like a bloodhound.”

 

“This is gonna sound real crazy… “

 

“What?”

 

“We could get married.”

 

Billy just stares at him. Expression unreadable. He doesn’t seem upset exactly. Just. Blindsided.

 

“You’re old enough that he wouldn’t have to approve it. We could go to the court house, sign some papers. Then you’re in my legal custody. He’s got no recourse.”

 

“That’s fucking insane.”

 

“Yeah. You’re right. Wild idea. Forget about it.”

 

***

 

Billy’s shithouse drunk. Worse than usual. He walked in the door with a half empty bottle of whiskey, reeking of sex. He’s sprawled across the couch, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“I’ve fucked three different people tonight,” he offers, apropos of nothing.

 

“Congratulations?” Jim’s washing the dishes. He’s not the best at keeping a clean house. But with Jane around, he has a reason to try.

 

“Isn’t that gross?”

 

“Not necessarily. Did you enjoy fucking three people?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Well. That’s concerning. Jim picks up another dirty plate and dunks it into soapy water.

 

“If we get married, I’m not gonna stop having sex with other people.”

 

“I wouldn’t expect you to.”

 

“As soon as I turn twenty-one, I’m moving back to California.”

 

“That’s fine.”

 

“Do you have like—any self respect? Why would you wanna get hitched to some slut that’s gonna leave you?”

 

“You’re starting to sound like a broken record with the ‘why are you doing this?’ crap. The answer isn’t gonna change.”

 

“What the fuck ever.”

 

Billy gets up on unsteady legs and staggers to the bathroom. Jim retching noises. Then the pipes creaking as the shower starts to run.  

 

***

 

“Hey, Jane. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about…”

 

Jane is sitting on the floor in front of the TV, eating potato chips. The kid loves junk food and Jim is weak.

 

“OK.” She doesn’t even turn to look at him. Eyes fixed on some Madonna music video.

 

“I think Billy will be moving in soon. You still fine with that?” Jim sighs. Flopping down in his armchair.

 

“He should stay.” She nods.

 

“There’s uh—one other thing. For him to get away from his father, I uh… gotta marry him. Just for a little while.”

 

“Will he be my mama?” Jane wrinkles her nose.

 

“Technically? You don’t have to call him that.”

 

“Good. I won’t.”

 

***

 

Judge Franklyn is looking at Jim like he’s got a second head growing out of his shoulder. To be fair, that’s probably appropriate, considering Jim’s standing there in a blazer and tie next to a kid in a leather jacket, asking for a marriage certificate. Just because it’s technically legal doesn’t mean it’s common for someone as young as Billy to get married. At least, not in this day and age.

 

But here they are.

 

It’s just temporary. They’ll separate as soon as Billy can strike out on his own. Lord knows Jim doesn’t intend to ever touch him. This is to protect him.

 

“You sure about this, kid?” Judge Franklyn pushes his glasses up his nose.

 

Billy is a bit pale and twitchy. But he nods. He’s holding onto Jim’s arm. Squeezing a little tighter than necessary.

 

“Really? _Him?”_

 

“Come on Franky,” Jim groans. “I’m not that bad to look at.”

 

“Hopper, you’re a walking disaster.”

 

“This is my wedding! Be nice!”

 

“Well, by the power vested in me by the state of Indiana—I pronounce you husband and wife.” Judge Franklyn sighs.

 

They don’t kiss. Billy looks up at Jim for a moment, like he’s lost, or maybe mentally bracing himself. But Jim just pats him on the shoulder and calls it good. Still legally binding. No need to make things awkward.

 

***

 

Billy doesn’t have a lot of possessions. It’s a single trip for him to show up with his car and everything he owns. Everything he packed while Neil and Susan were at work. He puts the three boxes in the living room, which is an interesting choice. Jim doesn’t comment on it. He just orders a pizza for dinner and runs the to liquor store for some celebration beer.

 

Jane seems comfortable enough around Billy. They’re both sitting on the couch watching MTV when Jim returns. Jane loves pizza. She loves that she gets to control the remote for the night.

 

After she goes to bed, Billy takes a shower. Then Jim does. He doesn’t expect Billy to say goodnight or anything.

 

So when he walks into his room with just a towel wrapped around his waist and finds a naked Billy sitting in the middle of the bed, he almost has a heart attack.

 

“Jesus!” Jim covers his eyes. Which feels juvenile. But he’s not sure what else to do.

 

Jim has as many moral convictions as the next guy. Being presented with a pretty young thing that’s nude and ripe for the taking is a lot to go up against. And god. Jim can smell the anxiety. Billy’s radiating discomfort. He feels like a piece of shit for contemplating such a flagrant boundary violation for half a second.

 

“Uh—Billy. Wanna explain what’s going on?” Jim lets his hand drop and looks at the ceiling instead.

 

“It’s our wedding night.” Billy says it so simple. Like it’s just a fact of life. Like this is what they’re supposed to do.

 

“Yeah. Well. No offense, but this ain’t why I married you.”

 

“It’s not?” He sounds confused. Jesus.

 

“No! Goddamn it. This is just—this is just to get you away from your asshole father. Put some clothes on.”

 

He hears the mattress springs creak. Rustling fabric. When he dares look again, Billy at least has on a pair of flannel pajama pants. But he’s still sitting on the bed.

 

“Can I uh… do you want me to sleep here… or?” Billy’s a bit wide eyed. But doesn’t smell like raw panic anymore.

 

“That’s up to you, kid. I snore.”

 

Jim takes his pajamas back into the bathroom and changes there. Billy hasn’t moved when he returns. So he just flicks the light off and climbs into bed.

 

Billy stays over on his side as Jim falls asleep. When he wakes up in the middle of the night, there’s a warm body pressed up against his back.

 

***

 

It’s a fairly calm weekend. Billy doesn’t talk much. He cooks dinner without being asked to both Saturday and Sunday night. He washes the dishes. Jim even finds him cleaning the bathroom.

 

“You don’t have to do that.”

 

“OK.” Billy just keeps scrubbing the bathtub. Yellow dish gloves on. Kneeling on the tile floor, bent over the edge of the tub.

 

“Let me rephrase—you playing live-in maid is making me kind of uncomfortable.”

 

“Why?”

 

“It’s not your job. You just moved in. Relax or something. Read a book. Go for a drive. Do teenager things.”

 

“Cleaning is relaxing to me.” Billy sits back on his heels, grabbing the bottle of bleach and spraying it on the next spot.

 

“Is it really? Because my ex-wife used to say she liked cleaning and then bring up how I never did anything around the house whenever she wanted to have a fight.”

 

“I didn’t know you’d been married before.” Billy still hasn’t _stopped._ It’s like Jim’s not even there.

 

“Yeah. I was.”

 

“Well, I’ll find other shit to yell at you about. I like cleaning. Now stop watching me, it’s creepy.”

 

***

 

Monday, Jim drops Jane off at school. Billy wanted to stay home. Which is fair. It’s not unreasonable to assume Neil might go looking for him on campus.

 

Jim parks and walks into the office of the high school after Jane has disappeared through the doors on the other side of the lot.

 

“Hey there, Maureen, looking beautiful as always.” He offers his best winning grin, to the secretary who’s been there since he was a sophomore. She’s in her seventies now and apparently refuses to retire.

 

“Hello, Jimmy.” She squints through her glasses. “Is something the matter?”

 

“Nah, it’s not official police business. I was just wondering if you could do me a favor.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“If a Neil Hargrove comes in asking after his son Billy, could ya let him know Billy’s out sick and then give me a call at the station?”

 

“Well I suppose so… though that’s a bit odd. Shouldn’t Mr. Hargrove be the one excusing his son?”

 

“No, actually. That’s my job now.” Jim indicates the little silver band on his finger.

 

Maureen blinks at him a few times. “Oh. Um. Congratulations, Jimmy. That’s very nice for you.”

 

“Thanks, Maureen. You’re a peach.”

 

***

 

Jim gets the call about an hour later. _Mr. Hargrove came by and seemed very upset to learn you and his son were married._ He leaves immediately, saying he’s on a domestic disturbance call. It’s not a lie.

 

He figures it’s not hard to pick up a phone book. He speeds a little since the school is closer to the cabin than the station. He’s only home and leaning against the cruiser for about ten minutes when another car pulls up in the driveway.

 

Neil gets out of his sedan, flushed and a little sweaty. Barely containing the rage fit. He’s a little shorter than Jim. A few years older. Several pounds thinner. Obviously still in shape.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove.” Jim briefly grasps the brim of his hat. Jacket pulled back enough to expose his gun.

 

“Good morning, Chief Hopper.” Neil sidles up to him. Plants his feet wide apart. Smiling, but tense. “My son Billy has been missing the past few days. Would you have any idea about that?”

 

“I haven’t received any missing persons reports.” Jim smiles right back.

 

“Billy tends to wander off sometimes. I didn’t want to cause any undue alarm. That looks like his car. Right there.” Neil points at the Camaro that’s parked alongside the cabin.

 

“Huh. How about that?”

 

“I checked the school today, in case anyone had seen him. And you know, I heard the most interesting thing.”

 

“That so?”

 

“I heard that my son, my _child_ , apparently got married. To you.”

 

“Well, then. You heard correct Mr. Hargrove. I still got a copy of the certificate in my car if you wanna see it.”

 

“Is this a joke?” Neil sneers.

 

“Nope. My apologies for not consulting you first, but the legal marriage age for Omegas is sixteen in the state of Indiana.”

 

“This is ridiculous. This is _sick_. You can’t just kidnap my son and hold him hostage—“

 

“Slow down there, bucko. I’m not holding him hostage. He went into all of this of his own free will. He lives with me now. I’m responsible for him. That’s something you’re gonna have to get used to, since nothing about the situation is changing unless Billy asks for it.”

 

“He’s in that house right now?” Neil doesn’t wait for an answer before walking towards the door. Shouting, “Billy. Come out here this instant. We’re going home.”

 

Jim has to jog to get in front of him. He heads Neil off at the porch.

 

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there, Mr. Hargrove. One step further, and things could get ugly.”

 

“Are you threatening me?” Neil puffs out his chest. Drawing himself up to his full height. “You can’t keep me from seeing my son.”

 

“Matter of fact, I can. This is my home. That’s my wife inside it. I’m perfectly within my rights to defend what’s mine.”

 

Neil glares at him. Eyes darting down to Jim’s gun then back up to his face. Fuming. Practically vibrating with rage.  “I’m calling a lawyer.”

 

“You do that. In the meantime, why don’t you go ahead and stay off my property. I’d hate to arrest you for trespassing.”

 

Neil turns on his heel and storms back to his car. The engine roars as he peels away. Jim waits until the sedan is out of sight before stepping towards the door and knocking.

 

“Billy? It’s just Jim. I’m coming in.”

 

He pushes the door open. Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor, by his three boxes that he hasn’t unpacked. There’s a lit cigarette dangling out of his mouth. A dead look in his eye.

 

“He’ll be back.” Billy exhales a cloud of smoke. His hands are shaking.

 

“Yeah, well, I’ll tell him to fuck off again. And if I’m not home, call me and keep the door locked. If the bastard tries to break in, I’ll book him.”

 

“What if… what if Jane’s here?” Billy curls in on himself. “What if he tries to hurt her?”

 

The image of Jane snapping Neil Hargrove’s neck with a curt nod comes to mind. It’s enticing, even if impractical. Jim’s pretty confident in his ability to hide a body.

 

“Jane’s a lot tougher than you’d think.”

 

Billy finishes his cigarette and lights another. Despite his creaky knees, Jim sits down on the floor beside him. Probably an odd scene, a full grown man in a sheriff's uniform sitting next to a kid in a half-buttoned silk shirt. But here they are.

 

“What do you say you come back to the station with me?” Jim asks after a while. “Bring a book. You can just sit in my office. We’ll pick Jane up from school and go to dinner or something.”

 

“Yeah.” Billy nods. “He might be waiting at the end of the driveway for you to leave.”

 

Jesus. The thought had crossed Jim’s mind, but the fact it crossed Billy’s too is even more depressing. Billy opens one of his boxes and pulls out a copy of _The Bell Jar_. He follows Jim out to the cruiser and sits in the passenger seat.

 

Jim doesn’t see a sedan parked anywhere along the road as they drive back into town. It’s probably too optimistic to think Neil’s got the message and will leave them alone. A man can dream.

 

***

 

Jim never does hear from any lawyers.

 

Things settle into a somewhat comfortable routine. Billy drives Jane to school most mornings. Picks her up from Mike or Dustin’s house after basketball practice. Depending on who gets home first, Jim cooks or Billy will.

 

Billy is undeniably better at it. He makes somewhat healthy food that Jane will actually eat. Zucchini lasagne. Chicken cacciatore with plenty of tomatoes and bell peppers. Pasta primavera. Hell, he even gets Jane to ingest a salad after putting enough feta cheese and croutons on it.

 

There was apparently no need to worry about the kids getting along. They’re bickering like long lost siblings before the week is out _. Mouth breather. Pipsqueak. Jerkoff. Crybaby._

 

They watch TV together. Jane gets Billy to try various board games. Billy teaches her to play poker and rummy. He’s still a little mean. Goes too far with the insults. When he crosses the line though, Jane just stares him down. Obviously unafraid. And he backs off.

 

Billy doesn’t sleep in Jim’s bed every night. He does more often than he doesn’t. It’s a little weird, but Jim doesn’t hate the company. He hasn’t had someone to doze off next to in a long time. He keeps it all above board. They never _cuddle_ or anything. Sometimes Billy will press against him once he’s asleep. They don’t hold each other. They don’t gravitate together on purpose.

 

At first, Billy’s tense a lot of the time. He’s twitchy. Always glancing out the windows. Double and triple checking the lock on the door before he goes to sleep. He moves his boxes to the guest room, but doesn’t spread anything out to the rest of the house.

 

It’s maybe a month and a half before Jim comes home to find Billy putting books on the shelf. Another couple weeks after that before a record player and a few albums appear in the corner of the living room.

 

He moves in real gradual. Like if he does it slow enough, nobody will notice. Jim just lets it happen without comment. Keeps it as his own source of private amusement. It’s nice that Billy feels comfortable enough to put his belongings out in the open. It’s good.

 

***

 

Jim wakes up, groggy and groaning. Billy is poking him in the stomach.

 

“Whashappen?” Jim slurs. Voice gruff with sleep.

 

“I’m gonna go into heat soon.” Billy says in the dark.

 

“OK?” Jim blinks, eyes adjusting. Billy is on the other side of the bed, lying on his side. Stiff.

 

“Where should I stay? Like… I don’t know. I don’t like going to hotels. I don’t—I don’t have anyone. Steve’s parents are home right now and they don’t like me…”

 

That’s a lot to process. Jim didn’t know Steve and Billy were… like that. Makes sense. Fighting with each other. Pulling pigtails.

 

“The two of you can use the guest room.”

 

“Really? You won’t… won’t the smell… like… ?”

 

“What?”

 

“Don’t um—Alphas—like—don’t they lose control when they smell an Omega in heat?”

 

“...No? I mean, assholes will use that as an excuse. But don’t worry about it. I can deal with it just fine.”

 

“Oh.” Billy sounds so quiet. Distressed almost?

 

“Just let me know the day before so I can arrange for Jane to stay the night at a friends house.”

 

Jim rolls onto his back, trying to settle in again. Billy’s trembling. He can feel it.

 

“Are you all right, kid?”

 

“Y-yeah. Fine.”

 

“You know, if someone hurt you and tried to blame it on biology—that’s not your fault. That just makes them a shitbag.”

 

“I know.” Billy’s voice wavers.

 

Jim wants to reach out for him. Hold him. Soothe him. But he’s still not sure how Billy would take it. Now is the worst possible time to give the poor kid the wrong idea.

 

So they just lie there. Billy’s breathing calms eventually. Jim wishes he could do more. But he can’t turn back the clock. Keep Billy from all that suffering. All he can do is try to make it better going forward. It’s just doesn’t seem like enough.

 

***

 

Billy smells sticky sweet. Like ripe peaches sprinkled with sugar. Of course, Jim wants to just sit there and marinate it. He’s also incredibly relieved when Steve shows up.

 

Steve offers an awkward little wave and a _Hey Hop_ as they pass each other in the living room. Then Jim’s out in his cruiser and driving away. He’s got work to do and the kids need privacy.

 

Maybe Jim finds excuses to stay extra late at the station. He stops to get dinner. It’s almost ten o’clock at night by the time he gets home. At least it’s quiet when he walks through the door. It reeks like sex. Like Billy and the sharper, less pleasant scent of another Alpha.

 

Jim heads for bed, grateful he doesn’t share a wall with the guest room. He can still hear it when they start up again, but it’s muffled.

 

Creaking springs. Slick noises. Billy’s soft little moans. It goes straight to Jim’s cock. He can’t be held responsible for that. Billy isn’t actually his child. The scent of heat might not drive him crazy with lust or anything, but there’s still a biological response. Like a moist chocolate cake set right in front of you. Of course, it’ll make you hungry. You’ll want a taste. But Jim has a little thing called self control. He can stick to a diet.

 

***

 

Jim wakes up to the sound of _vigorous_ sex. He looks at the clock. It’s just a few minutes before his alarm is due to go off.

 

_“Daddy.”_

 

He nearly has a heart attack. What the actual hell?

 

 _“Daddy, its too big. It won’t fit.”_ Billy sounds on the verge of tears. Jim’s sitting up, reaching for his gun.

 

_“Shhh. It’ll fit. Just relax.”_

 

Thank god, it’s Steve’s voice that responds. Billy whimpers. Louder and louder. One loud, long moan. Then everything goes quiet.

 

Jim tries to steady his breathing. Head spinning a little. He thought—shit, he doesn’t wanna actually think about that. He’s just glad it wasn’t that.

 

He gets up. Tries to shake it off. Gets out of the house as quick as he can. By the time he’s home, Steve is gone. Billy is curled up in Jim’s bed. He’s under a huge pile of blankets. Surrounded in a nest of pillows. He’s sleeping sound. Looks so soft and relaxed.

 

Jim cleans up the guest room. Throws the sheets in the wash. Opens the window to air everything out.

 

When he finally gets around to turning in, Billy’s a heat seeking missile. He’s crammed up against Jim in seconds. Nuzzling him. Clinging to his arm. He must still be a little heat drunk. He still smells sweet.

 

Jim just sighs and lets it happen.

 

***

 

It’s almost nine o’clock on a Thursday and Billy hasn’t come home. Jim’s sitting in his armchair, holding a glass of whiskey, trying not to panic.

 

Sometimes Billy will go out. Even stay out all night. But he always says something beforehand. He’ll come back to the house to get ready before his dates. Jim even called Steve to check if Billy was over there. But Steve hadn’t seen him since they left school. Same story with Tommy.

 

Jim’s worried and he’s not sure if he’s being overprotective and unreasonable or if he should get in the cruiser and drive around town. What if Billy’s car broke down? What if he got into some sort of altercation? What if it’s something worse?

 

The phone rings. Jim lunges for it.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi. It’s Billy.”

 

“Hey, champ.” Jim clears his throat. “Everything OK?”

 

“Uh… can you come get me? I’m um… I’m at a diner that’s like a couple towns over. Cozy Cottage. It’s just off 64. Exit 32B.”

 

“Yeah. Sure. I’ll leave right now… you’re not hurt or anything right?”

 

“No. I’m fine. I’ll see you soon.”

 

The line goes dead. Jim speeds to the highway. Drives in the right lane. Fast as he can. The roads are empty enough at this hour that he doesn’t have to flick on his lights. But he would.

 

The diner is visible as soon as Jim gets off at the exit. Billy is standing just inside the door. He waves to the woman behind the counter before walking out and getting in the passenger’s seat.

 

He’s pale. A little wide eyed. But doesn’t look roughed up or anything. He lights a cigarette as Jim starts to drive.

 

“So. What are you doing out here?” Jim asks, gripping the wheel a little too tight. He knows Billy won’t offer that sort of information up on his own. It might be a mistake fishing for it. But there’s still concern twisting in Jim’s gut. An uneasiness he can’t shake.

 

Billy doesn’t respond right away. He drums his fingers on the armrest between them.

 

“Neil was waiting for me after basketball practice.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“He said he just wanted to talk. That he missed me. He wanted to take me to dinner… I shouldn’t have got in his car. But I did.”

 

Jim swallows. Wants to yell _what the fuck were you thinking?_ But that won’t help. That will cut the story off.

 

“He was being really nice to me.” Billy’s voice is starting to strain. “But we just kept driving. He wouldn’t say where we were going. And you know. Ended up far away. He took me to some steak place. Told me to order whatever I wanted.”

 

Billy pauses. Breath hitching. Billy doesn’t cry in front of people. Jim’s only ever seen the aftermath. But god he’s close right now. Jim can smell the salt. The misery.

 

“He said he’s sober. He and Susan are going to marriage counseling. And he’s working on anger management. Then he started begging me to come back. Said it made him sick to think about you _violating_ me every night. Didn’t believe me when I said you’ve never touched me. Started calling me a slut, and saying I must like getting fucked by a dirty old man if I want to stay with you.”

 

Billy turns his head at a sharp angle, staring out the window. Hiding his face in shadow.

 

“By the time the food got there, he was asking if you’d knocked me up yet. Said I looked fatter. And that if I had your kid he’d never speak to me again. Then he broke down and started crying about how much he loved me, and how sorry he is, and how bad he needs me.”

 

Billy stutters a little. Almost a sob. Jim’s white-knuckling the wheel. He can’t keep driving. He pulls over onto the shoulder. Focuses on breathing.

 

“I left the restaurant when he got up to go to the bathroom. Ran to that diner across the street. The lady behind the counter was real nice. Let me use the phone and sit in there while I waited for you.”

 

Jim reaches over. Puts a hand on Billy’s shoulder and squeezes tight.

 

“I’m so sorry, kid.” He says. Because what else do you say.

 

“It’s fine. I was stupid. I should have told him to fuck off the second I saw him. It’s my fault.”

 

“It’s not. It’s not wrong to want a father. It’s his fucking fault for being a piece of shit.”

 

“Yeah. OK.” Billy wipes his cheek with the cuff of his jacket. “Can we just go home?”

 

Home.

 

“Yeah, buddy. Sure thing.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this shit in like two days and it’s entirely Sara’s fault. So now it’s her early birthday present <3 <3 <3
> 
> Title from "Upward Over the Mountain" by Iron and Wine. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](https://trashcangimmick.tumblr.com/). Follow for screaming about feral monster billy because that's the only thing I care about in the year of our lord 2019.


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